


Home Sweet Home

by cola1320



Series: Carry on My Wayward Daughter: A Supernatural Fanfiction Collection [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Mentor/Protégé, Murder Mystery, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-07-28 19:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20069455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cola1320/pseuds/cola1320
Summary: After a less than spectacular first hunt, Avery is sent to spend time with the Winchester's family friend, Bobby Singer.  Adjusting to a stationary life not on the road isn't quite what it's cracked up to be.  Especially when the past won't stay dead and a solo hunt is up for grabs.





	1. Chapter 1

The rusted metal sign arched low over the road, an inhospitable welcome to any cars passing through it. Haphazard letters of different fonts spelled out Singer Auto Salvage in faded red paint. Decrepit cars piled sky high lined the dirt road as we drove toward a two-story house that had seen better days. Dean parked the Impala in a car free area beside a small porch with once-white railing. Dust settled around me as we stepped out of the car. We were instantly greeted by fierce barking coming from a separate part of the yard. Sam and Dean visibly cringed at the noise.  
“Puppy!” I squealed, dropping to my knees. A thick set rottweiler with tan point came barreling around the side of the house. He made a point to snap at Sam before barreling into me. I fell over into the dirt as he placed his paws on my shoulders. His giant tongue licked my face, sending loose a peal of laughter from my mouth.  
“What the actual heck?” Dean asked, equal parts of shock and contempt seeping into his voice. “That dog hates everyone.” I couldn’t see his face over the Impala, but I could imagine his pouty frown.  
“But he’s such a sweetie!” I insisted, giggling. The dog had rolled over on the ground and was enjoying having his belly rubbed. He whined happily, his tongue lolling out of his open mouth. “What’s his name?” I hadn’t interacted with anything furry in weeks and it was making my day. I had no idea where we were, but I was absolutely in love with the fluffball in my lap.  
“Rumsfeld,” Sam told me. He was grinning goofily as he watched me play with the dog, though he made no attempt to join in.  
“Get over here, ya idjit,” a gruff voice called. Rumsfeld scrambled to turn his body upright before loping back towards the house. He leapt on top of an ancient truck, laying himself down on the rusty hood. I stood up out of the dirt to see a sour man with a scraggly red-brown beard stomping down the porch steps. He wore a tattered puffer vest over a thick flannel shirt that bulged over a beer gut. A beat-up trucker hat that used to be blue and white sat low on his forehead, obscuring a receding hairline. His set-in frown only deepened when he saw me. “I thought I told ya I wasn’t running no finishing school for misguided girls,” he snapped at Dean. His fierce gaze made me want to shrink back behind the Impala and hide.  
“Hey to you too, Bobby,” the older Winchester said, acting as if he hadn’t heard the comment. The two men clapped each other on the back in a familial manner as Dean stepped up to him.  
“Hey Bobby,” Sam said as he mimicked the same gesture. The old man’s eyes crinkled at the corners as if he were smiling underneath that irritable exterior as he embraced the two boys. The look instantly disappeared when his eyes returned to me.  
“Now wait just a minute. I’m not misguided!” I snapped, offended and confused at the wary eye Bobby was giving me. Dean stood silently beside him, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. My eyes widened suddenly as I realized what was going on. I whirled on Dean, angrily pointing my finger at him. “Dean Winchester, you better not be planning on leaving me here at this dump!” He gave me a weak smile, as if he hadn’t planned on me figuring out his plan so quick. My jaw fell open as I gasped, astounded. Bobby snorted beside Dean and I winced. “No offense?” I told him, crinkling my nose in embarrassment. Not that I had accepted the fact that they were ditching me here, but best not to offend the guy.  
“None taken,” he shrugged heavily. “You didn’t tell me she was such a firecracker.” He bumped Dean with his elbow, chuckling to himself as he watched me fume. “Bobby Singer,” he said, offering me a large calloused hand. The frown had yet to leave his hard face, but he looked on me with softer blue-grey eyes.  
I tentatively took his outreached hand which he gave a hearty shake. “Avery King.” I offered my name quietly, intimidated by his presence.  
“How’d you end up with these two idjits?” he asked, jerking his thumb to the boys standing behind him.  
I bit my lip before answering, trying to think of where to begin. ‘Hi, we’ve just met, but here’s my tragic backstory’ wasn’t always a great first impression. “Ah, well, it’s a bit of a long story,” I told him instead, waiting to see if he would pry.  
“One she can tell you later,” Dean stepped in, placing his hands on my shoulder blades and pointing me toward the Impala. “But we’ve got places to be.” Sam gave his brother a puzzled look before being snapped at. “Sammy, go tell Bobby about your haunted house fetish or something.” He was about to protest, but the older gentleman patted his back while turning him toward the house.  
“I can’t believe you,” I shouted at Dean as soon as the others were out of earshot. “This was so not our deal!” I stormed after him as he opened the trunk, rummaging around in it. “You can’t just leave me here!”  
“Watch me,” was all he said, not even bothering to look at me as he said it. His tone was flat, devoid of emotion. My ears felt like they were burning from the heat of my anger.  
“Bastard,” I growled, punching his arm as hard as I could. He spun to face me, and I pushed against his chest repeatedly. “Take- me- with- you-,” I demanded, hitting him as I said each word. I was too furious to think, the pain in my knuckles the only thing that made sense. It churned my blood, adding to my fury.  
“Stop it!” he roared, growing tired of being my punching bag. He aggressively grabbed my wrists, holding them tight in the air. “Bobby is good people and you’ll be safe here! I can’t have you ending up like that stupid kid!” Heat crawled up the side of his neck as he berated me, his tone matching my own.  
I cringed, recalling Evan’s dead body on the ground outside the sanatorium. “He had a name,” I snarled.  
Dean’s nose flared in irritation as he answered me. “Yeah, and now he’s just a name in an obituary.” I opened my mouth to keep arguing with him, my anger fueling me on. “I don’t wanna lose you!” he shouted over me, his face dangerously close to mine. The tone of his voice was terrifying and sent me trembling. He was livid; more so than I’d ever seen him. But behind the fierceness of his eyes, I thought I saw pain and concern. He drew a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes as he did. “Look, I just couldn’t forgive myself if you got hurt, alright? Stay here and let Bobby train you. And when you’re ready, you can come back on the road with me and Sammy. Okay?”  
I shrugged my wrists out of his grasp, crossing my arms as I thought. He was practically pleading with me. And he was right. I desperately didn’t want to admit it, but he was. I wasn’t good to anyone dead. I couldn’t avenge my family if my skull was caved in by a monster or I was laid up on a funeral pyre. Dean’s admission of caring helped cool my rage at being left behind. I rolled my eyes, sighing, trying to give off an indifferent air I didn’t feel. He raised his eyebrows, waiting patiently. “Fine,” I conceded after several moments, dropping my arms to my sides.  
He released the breath he had been holding loudly, his chest dropping with the effort. Whatever he had been searching for in the trunk earlier, he now removed. “Take this.” He roughly shoved a cellphone into my hand, shutting the trunk with one swift move. It was a simple flip phone with a few scratches etched on the front. If I had to guess, it was one of his old burner phones. “Come on; get your stuff,” he told me while I stared at the phone in confusion.  
“But-” I tried to ask as I grabbed my duffel from the backseat. He’d denied giving me one when I had first gone on the road with them, claiming there was no reason to buy me one. Though I had been able to talk him into getting me an iPod instead. Why now?  
He walked ahead of me to where Sam and Bobby stood, talking as he did. “I already put both our numbers in it in case you need something. Sam, say your goodbyes,” he instructed, switching places with his brother to speak with Bobby. It was obvious I had wasted all his good graces and there would be no more arguing with him today. I did my best to curb my tongue, already ashamed for the way I had yelled at him.  
Sam awkwardly stood beside me, sweeping a quick hand through his hair. “Are you going to be alright here?” he asked, sympathy riddling his voice.  
I feigned confidence, not wanting to worry his tender heart. He was not his brother, instead wearing his heart on his sleeve. Maybe that’s why we got along so well. “Yeah, of course. I’m strong, remember?” I beamed up at him, flexing my bicep to coax a laugh out of him.  
“Yeah, alright, munchkin,” he chuckled, nibbling on his lip. The nervous tick told me he didn’t necessarily agree with his brother’s decision. I didn’t want him to worry about me. He would need to keep his head about him on hunts, or he’d lose it.  
“What am I going to do without you, Sam?” I teased him, trying again to lighten the mood.  
He guffawed at the jest. “Probably have a lot of boring conversations,” he said, a small smile pulling at his lips. Dean hollered at his brother, telling him to get his ass in the car before he left him there with me.  
“You better call me, Winchester,” I shouted after Sam as he jogged to the Impala. His long hair bobbed with each step, making me smile. I was going to miss that gangly moose the most.  
“Every week,” he promised. He was grinning broadly as he folded his giant form into the car.  
Dean looked at me over the top of his door, searching my eyes for something he wouldn’t find. I met his gaze firmly with one of my own. He broke first. “Take care, short stuff,” he said, climbing into the driver seat without looking back.  
“Goodbye, Dean,” I said softly. I knew he couldn’t hear me over the sweet sound of the engine, but it didn’t matter. I watched the dust settle before I turned around to find Bobby waiting for me. His arms were loosely crossed over his barrel chest. I picked up the bag at my feet, scrunching my mouth uncertainly. “Thanks for letting me stay, Mr. Singer,” I mumbled after a small moment of silence when he said nothing.  
Bobby simply shook his head at me, a strange look in his eye. “Mr. Singer’s my father and he’s been dead the last forty years. Just call me Bobby.”  
“Okay… Bobby.” I said the name tentatively, unsure of myself.  
“Come on,” he said, jerking his head toward the door in a friendly manner. He held it open behind him for me to follow him inside. “So how about that story now?”


	2. Chapter 2

Five thirty came too soon every morning I thought as I rolled over to smack the obnoxious alarm clock on the bedside table. Bobby had demanded I be up before the sun or I wasn’t worth training. One morning he had even gone so far as to dump a bucket of cold water on me when I had accidentally hit the snooze button. It wasn’t any easier to get up so early, but I had learned to force myself out of bed without falling back asleep. It was strictly muscle memory at this point. I rolled to a sitting position with a groan, stretching my arms over my head. The gesture popped my back, giving me a small sense of relief before my bare feet hit the cold wooden floor. I rocked up on my toes, inhaling sharply at the sensation. Bleary eyed, I opened the door to my room and began stumbling down the hallway.  
Nine months ago, I had knocked over nearly every stack of books lining the halls and pulled more than one of the decors off the walls. Now I could navigate the maze in the pre-dawn blackness with my eyes closed. I gripped the banister as I rounded the stairs, remembering not so fondly the time I had fallen down them. It had been soon after I had started staying with Bobby and I was still unfamiliar with the old house. Having been awake half the night from nightmares, my alarm sounded even earlier than expected. I managed to avoid all the tomes but turned before I had cleared the top of the stairs. The misstep sent me thundering down the steps, screaming and yelping the whole way. An avalanche of volumes followed my fall, careening around me once I finally stopped. Bobby had burst out of his room, shotgun in tow, almost pumping me full of rock salt.  
I shook my head at myself in embarrassment, the heat of a blush creeping up my neck as I flipped the light on in the bathroom. I rubbed at the makeup underneath my eyes before pilling all my hair into a high ponytail. As I took the braided hairband from my wrist and snapped it in place, my eyes caught a glimpse of the dark ink peeking out from underneath my sleep shirt in the mirror. I pulled the fabric away from my collarbone, running my fingers over the semi-new tattoo gently.   
It was an anti-possession symbol, a pentagram surrounded by rays, nestled in the curve of my shoulder above my breast. Dean had had the bright idea that we all get the symbol in ink after Sam had showed up on Bobby’s doorstep, murderous and possessed. Once I had patched them up, we went to a local artist in Sioux Falls. I was originally going to place it on my hip, but the boys had insisted I match them. Sam had said it because he liked the idea of matching tattoos; Dean because he liked teasing me that I wouldn’t take my shirt off. I chuckled, thinking of how large his eyes had swollen when I did, just to shut him up. Thank god I had decided to wear a cute bra that day.  
I still wasn’t used to the new mark on my skin or the looks I got from people when my shirt didn’t cover it completely. The tattoo artist could have cared less and of course Bobby thought it was practical, but they weren’t the norm. I caught people openly gawking, not bothering to hide their disdain. The woman at the grocery store checkout always pursed her lips and refused to speak more than a few clipped words to me and the local gothic kids nodded with approval, as if the occult symbol meant something to them. Oh, how I longed for Dean’s thick skin. I constantly reminded myself that the newness would wear away. The ink would become a part of me much like a birthmark and I wouldn’t think anything strange of it.  
With a last quick peek, I left the bathroom to get dressed. I snagged a pair of black Nike shorts hanging on the back of my desk chair and stepped into them. Next, I rummaged through the small chest of drawers for a matching sports bra and athletic tank top. After pulling on my running shoes and grabbing my iPod, I lightly descended the stairs to the kitchen.   
Digging through the cabinets while happily munching on a peanut butter protein bar, I started a pot of coffee for Bobby. He would be getting up while I was gone, and I had found that he was more pleasurable during the day if I left him an offering of some kind. The old machine was persnickety and sputtered heavily as if it were coughing, complaining about having to do its job. I thumped the plastic with my middle finger as if the gesture would help. It seemed do the trick because the coffee pot quit its coughing and released a stream of rich black liquid.   
Pleased with the product, I quietly slipped out the backdoor. July was hot in South Dakota, but not nearly as much as back home. My early morning runs let me avoid the insufferable heat of the day and I liked seeing the sunrise through the treetops. Rumsfeld was ready for me, already sitting at the bottom of the steps, his entire butt wiggling in delight. I smiled, patting his head as I walked by and shushing him when he yipped gleefully. I stretched to stave of the tightness in my muscles from sleep and popped my earbuds in. Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood was first up on my workout playlist. I grinned at the frisky music, bouncing on my toes for a few beats before taking off. Nothing like a girl power song to get you in the mood for a jog.  
Rumsfeld loped besides me, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as we raced for the fence at the back of the property. It was always a race for the happy Rottweiler and I obliged every morning. He would run the first mile with me and stop at the border of his kingdom, willing to remain inside as I slipped through a section of the paneling. I waved goodbye to him, knowing he’d be waiting at the entrance of the drive until I came back.   
A worn path cut through the woods that butted up to the fence. It had no doubt once been a game trail, but it traversed the land easier than a road. If I followed it for nearly two miles, it would place me in a quaint cookie cutter neighborhood that I enjoyed running in. I was lucky to see a couple deer most days and had even stumbled upon a massive twelve-point buck one time. As I rounded a blind curve, I startled a flock of turkeys that flew off in a thunderous rustling of feathers that nearly gave me a heart attack. I had to stop for a few moments just to calm my breathing again.   
When I emerged from the tree line, the sun was already basking the small houses in warm yellow hues. I plodded down the concrete sidewalk, passing moms with strollers and other joggers out with their furry companions. I flashed a small smile to everyone I passed that wasn’t returned, too high on endorphins to care. I even hollered a greeting to Sheriff Mills who was getting ready to climb into her cruiser with a thermos of coffee after kissing her husband goodbye. She returned the greeting with a quick flash of her hand, telling me to have a good run as I passed her driveway.  
It wasn’t much father past the end of the subdivision before I cut across fields and dirt roads to end back up in front of the rusted-out sign at Bobby’s. Rumsfeld barked buoyantly when he caught sight of me trudging down the adjacent dirt road, jumping up and down to catch my attention. We sprinted to the house once more and this time he easily beat me, having enough time to jump on his favorite truck before I made it to the porch. I wearily rubbed his head before tripping up the stairs and into the house.  
Bobby was sitting at the table, sipping coffee and pretending to read the newspaper when I walked in. He didn’t move as I opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “How many miles you runnin’ now?” he asked after savoring a long sip.  
I chugged my drink before answering, panting lightly. “I don’t really keep track anymore,” I said, plopping into the chair opposite him. “At least five, I would think, but it might be more. I run for the fun of it now; but you knew that.” Running had been an abhorrent chore at first; one I was miserable at. I thought I had been going into cardiac arrest after only one mile. Now I ran until I didn’t have any road left.  
He gave a snort, barely glancing at me over the top of the paper. I tried to hide my grin at his unorthodox approval as he slid a plate of bacon across the small table. I hungrily grabbed at the crispy meat, munching quietly while he finished reading. For all his grumbling and rough edges, Bobby was more invested than he would ever let on. We had fallen into a routine during my time here that made me feel like family. And this was part of it. I left a pot of coffee on the counter while I was gone, and I came back to find him sitting in that exact spot, reading the paper, with a hot breakfast waiting for me. He would clear his throat when he was done and head to his study to flip through another ancient book he had recently added to his collection. That was my chance to leave and get cleaned up before I was expected to help with research.   
After a fast shower and changing into a fresh set of clothes, I made my way to the study. Humming Before He Cheats under my breath, I picked up the book that Bobby had extended towards me. I curled up on the bench seat under the large exterior window, letting the sunlight warm me from the chill of the drafty house. My designated tome was easily several hundred years old, the once red cover now closer to faded mahogany. I shivered as I touched the first page, realizing only human skin felt this way. Of course, a book on angelic deities would be made from this disgusting material.  
I wasn’t even sure why he was having me read this. Every hunter knew angels weren’t real. Maybe it’ll mention a pagan deity that someone needs more lore on. The old English text threatened to lull me to sleep as it droned on about every archangel in heaven. Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, and dozens of names I had never heard before were described in excruciating detail. The only reprieve was a handful of beautifully rendered illustrations dispersed throughout the book. A true artist had drawn every angel in their full glory, incredible detail etched into each lifelike image. The curve of their bodies, beautifully rendered veining, and perfect shading made me wonder if they weren’t somehow taken with a camera. I spent the majority of my time delicately fingering the raised edges of the artwork, wishing I was half as good as this person.  
Chair legs scraping across the floor snapped me out of drooling over the images. I glanced over my shoulder to see Bobby standing, snapping his book closed. Damn, he’s a fast reader, I thought as I watched him place it on a nearby tower of other volumes. And I wasn’t even halfway through mine. Just another to add to my list of things to finish reading later.   
I swung my legs off the bench, rolling my neck as I did. My eyes sought the clock on the wall over the doorway. Had it really been three hours already? The lengthening shadows inside the house confirmed the time. In my trek back to reality, I realized Bobby had left me behind in the room. I scrambled off my perch as fast as my short legs would take me, stopping only long enough to pull on my boots that were sitting by the stairs. I clambered down the steps that led to the cellar underneath the house. In my haste, my foot slipped on a loose board I never seemed to remember was there. I yelped in surprise as I skated down a few steps before regaining my balance with the help of the banister.   
“Can’t ya go anywhere without making a racket?” Bobby grumbled as I finally hit the floor. I grinned sheepishly at his hidden jest, starting to apologize. He stopped me with a shake of his head, eyes rolling behind heavy lids. “Bring me that drill and bag of nails, would ya?” was what he said instead, pointing across the room to his hardware table.   
I had to dig my way around paper blueprints, various tools, and a copious amount of sawdust on the tabletop before remembering he hadn’t asked for a hammer. Instead, I stood up on my tiptoes to reach an overhead shelf where the electric drill lived. After nearly dropping it on my head and mistaking a bag of rock salt for nails, I turned to see Bobby had moved on without me again.   
“What’re we building again?” I asked as I brought the supplies to where he was creating a stockpile of metal frames.  
“I’m buildin’ a panic room,” he huffed, dragging a thick piece of metal that was taller than him to the far corner. “You’re just free labor. Now hold this here.” He butted the sheet metal up against the wall, leaving me to stabilize it as he fixed it in place.   
It took every ounce of my strength to keep it from quivering. I gritted my teeth and blew deeply through my nose when the drill sent a quake through the metal that traveled straight into my body. The drilling didn’t stop until the piece was firmly secured to the wall and my body was numb from the vibrations.  
“One down,” I said optimistically, rubbing the feeling back into my hands and thighs.  
“Only a dozen more to go,” Bobby finished for me. I swore there was a sadistic smile hidden underneath that scraggly beard of his as he went to move the next piece into place.  
The panic room was slow work between the two of us and I was no use when it came to heavy lifting. Even Rufus would have been a welcome addition to the project. I was covered in sweat and a thick layer of grime by the time we finished the perimeter frame. Bobby was in worse shape than me, but he seemed determined not to quit. I was just about to beg him for a breather when I heard the phone ring upstairs.  
“I’ll get it!” I shouted, racing up the stairs before he could tell me no. I heard him complain about my lazy ass as I leapt into the kitchen, skidding to a stop on the tile. All the phones on the wall were quiet except for the one labeled FBI in permanent marker that rattled in its holder as it rang. “FBI, Director Willis’ office.” I recited the script I had memorized, hoping whoever was on the line didn’t question my supposed authority.  
“Bobby?” the voice on the other end asked suspiciously. It was a familiar male voice that I couldn’t nail down and I found myself hoping it was Dean.  
“No…” I said hesitantly. “Who is this?”  
“It’s Garth. Who is this?” As soon as he said his name, it clicked in my brain. Of course it was that knucklehead. He probably even called the wrong phone again.  
I rolled my eyes as I shifted my weight to get comfier next to the phone. “It’s me, Garth.” I took the awkward silence on the other end of the line as confirmation that he didn’t remember me. “You know; Avery?” I prompted him again. His voice exploded into the receiver, loud enough that I had to jerk it away from my ear and wonder if I would have permanent hearing loss. His words ran together as he shouted my name, simultaneously asking how I had been. “I’m doing good, Garth. What about you?”  
“Oh, y’know me; can’t complain about much.” His voice was chipper, and I could imagine the goofy grin on his face. After a brief pause, he asked again. “Well, how’ve you been?”  
I giggled at him through the receiver, a smile on my face. That boy would lose his head if it weren’t attached to his shoulders. “You already asked me that; like two seconds ago.”   
“Oh, yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I’m just so happy to be talking to you. I feel like it’s been forever.” I agreed with him even though I vividly remembered speaking with him only a month ago. He was such a happy soul; surely, he became this happy when talking with everyone he knew. “Well, tell me what all dyou’ve been up to. Heard you took down a werewolf pack recently.”  
I speculated who could have possibly told him even as I talked. “Uh, yeah; me and Bobby. We got called out to a college town in north Colorado. It was pretty cut and dry; but we skinned about ten total, I think. One of them got me pretty good too-”   
Garth gasped so suddenly on the other end of the phone that he cut me off. “You got bit?” he exclaimed, his voice jumping an octave.  
“What?” I asked, bewildered. Where did he get that idea? “Oh, no, Garth! I meant one of them clawed me! That’s all.”   
“You sure had me worried there for a second,” he said, sounding relieved as he exhaled deeply.  
His concern for me warmed my heart, lifting the corners of my mouth into a bashful smile. “I’m sorry,” I apologized, glancing down at my feet as if that would stop my embarrassment.   
“Don’t worry about it,” he assured me. “Bet Bobby wasn’t very happy that you got hurt, huh?”   
“Yeah, hardly,” I scoffed, recalling the hunt. “A little female slipped around behind both of us in the thick of it. She would’ve disemboweled me if I hadn’t seen her out of the corner of my eye.” My half-step had saved my life, but her claws had carved into my flesh regardless. The scars stretched from my navel down onto my thigh on the left side of my body.  
Garth’s voice cut through my thoughts and pulled me back to the conversation at hand. “I don’t know what it is about their claws, but they cut deep and leave some massive scars,” he was saying.  
“You don’t have to tell me. Bobby gave me some kinda special medicine for it and they still look fresh. I’m just glad most of my shorts cover them.” My running shorts barely concealed the scars, with a hint of the pink whelps showing underneath. It had been two weeks since the hunt and I had only removed the sutures a few days ago. The werewolf’s claws had seemed to barely scratch me, but the marks were nearly an inch deep. They no doubt would have festered if Bobby hadn’t been quick to clean them out. That night had been filled with alcohol, cursing, and endless stitches.   
My hand subconsciously slid to my hip where the scars hid under my clothes. A nervous cough filled my ear as Garth shifted his weight. “Well, I’m real glad you’re okay, Avery. Wouldn’t want anything happening to you or nothing.” He paused for a moment before speaking, his light breathing the only sound I could hear. “What’d you think about maybe getting some dinner the next time I’m in town?”  
The question caught me so off guard that words tumbled out my mouth before I could stop them. “Like a date?” I heard myself say, a hint of bewilderment in my voice. Oh, no; I probably just crushed his heart like a grape. I liked Garth, I really did; and he was plenty cute. But I just didn’t like him romantically. I wasn’t sure I liked anyone that way anymore. Hunters didn’t have time for dates and boyfriends. Not to mention this wasn’t the first time he had asked me out.   
“Well, yeah…,” he mumbled softly as my thoughts went around in my head.  
What could I say without hurting his feelings? And would it really kill me to have dinner with a friend? “I, uh-” I started hesitantly, prepared to turn him down. “You know what? Sure. Next time you’re in Sioux Falls.” He inhaled sharply, getting ready to shout excitedly. “But just as friends, alright? So, there’s no pressure on either of us,” I said over him, trying to nip anything he was about to say in the bud. That’s called letting a guy down easy, right?  
“It works for me,” he replied calmly instead. I imagined a silly smile on his face as I gingerly bit my lip.  
We sat in awkward silence until I began thinking about the reason for his call. “Hey, Garth, weren’t you calling for Bobby?”  
“You’re right!” he bellowed into the receiver again, blowing out my eardrum. “I completely forgot! I’ve got a case I can’t quite figure out and wanted to run by him. I’ve got a whole bunch of missing people, but no bodies’ve turned up yet. And the weird thing is they’ve all had loved ones who died pretty recently.”  
“Huh, that is weird,” I agreed, raking my brain. I’d read enough books about monsters, surely, I could think of something. Vampires, werewolves, or ghouls maybe? On second thought, I’ll leave this to the expert. “Nothing really comes to mind unless you had a body to go off. But I’ll be sure to let Bobby know and give you a call back.”  
“Thanks, Avery; you’re the best.” He made a kissing noise as we said goodbye. I settled the phone back in its holder, leaning back against the wall for support. He was a good guy and beyond adorable, but I didn’t enjoy the few butterflies stirring in my belly.  
Heavy bootsteps thudded up the basement stairs, shaking the kitchen floor beneath my feet. Bobby came through the doorframe covered in more grease than when I had left him which I hadn’t thought was possible. He hmphed at me, frown deepening. “You been gone nearly an hour. Had to check and make sure the phone hadn’t swallowed ya whole.” I dropped my head, not meaning to have disappeared for so long. “Who was it?” he asked, grabbing a nearby towel to wipe his face.  
“Just Garth calling about a case. Missing people, no bodies, and dead relatives,” I told him, shrugging.  
He snorted to himself as he washed his hands, nodding along. “Leave it to Garth to get the hardest case. I’ll give ‘im a call later.”  
“That’s what I told him. You stopping for lunch?” I asked as Bobby sat himself down at the table. It wasn’t like him to take a break until he was finished with that portion of a job.  
“I’m done with the frame. I’ll need Rufus to find me a few things before I can finish it though.” I was only partially listening to him as I tried to plan what I would do with my now free afternoon. I had a book that wasn’t on lore I had been meaning to read and a half-finished doodle in my journal. It was also a beautiful day out and perfect for playing with Rumsfeld. But Bobby was quick to stop my daydreaming. “Since you skipped out on work today, I think you’re due for some training,” he told me. His eyebrow was quirked above a slim smirk as my face dropped. I groaned my complaint, but the punishment didn’t budge. So, instead, I spent my afternoon kickboxing the rugged bag in the outside workshop.


	3. Chapter 3

My morning shower had gone to complete waste by the time Bobby came to get me for dinner. Even the wrappings around my hands were soaked with sweat when I finally pried them off. I retreated to my room after eating, not wanting to get caught up in the research for Garth’s case. I was more than content to finish logging entries in my journal instead.  
I sat at my desk with the book open before me, jotting down the last few case details I could remember. Bobby had given it to me as a Christmas gift while gruffly saying that every hunter needed one. It was bound in brown leather with a crisscross pattern stamped around the borders. The design was the closest thing to feminine he could imagine, but the thought was what made me treasure it. The first entry detailed how I’d met the Winchesters and every case I worked thereafter. I smiled fondly, thinking back on the whirlwind my life had taken in the past year, as I penned a sketch of a werewolf bitch on an empty page.  
I had just started filling in the details around her muzzle when my phone began to rattle on the desk next to me. Instinctively, I grabbed it without checking to see who was calling. I assumed it was Sam, who I hadn’t spoken to in a few days.  
“This is Avery,” I answered, a playful lilt in my voice as I waited for Sam’s deep response.  
The voice I heard couldn’t have been more startling or unsettling. “Oh, Miss Avery- wasn’t rightly expecting to hear your voice, considering all the trouble I’ve had findin’ you.” I knew the owner of that rasping voice as soon as my name passed his lips; and it wasn’t Sam Winchester.   
“Sheriff?” I breathed in shock. Memories of the night I lost my family came flooding back, stealing my breath. I hadn’t spoken to the man since that night and had vanished without a trace on purpose. I didn’t want a reason to be reminded of my past and the sleepy little town shrouded in death. The smell of smoke was already filling my nostrils as I dropped the pen in my hand. It rattled across the desk and plummeted to the floor, but I hardly noticed.   
“We’ve gotta lot to discuss…” he said slowly, beginning to divulge a year’s worth of information.

I didn’t recall hanging up on the sheriff, or even finishing the conversation. But I found myself with my back against the door, knees pulled to my chest. One hand was threaded into my hair, pushing it off my forehead, while the other clutched feverishly at my chest. It felt like an elephant was crushing my lungs, preventing me from catching my breath. Each passing second made my heart beat faster. I was ready to pass out, but at the same time I was hyperaware of everything going on around me.   
What is happening to me, I wondered as a sob shook through my trembling body. My fingers instinctively reached for the cellphone lying next to me before I knew why. The sweat clinging to my palms nearly caused it to slide out of my hand as I shakily dialed the number.  
“Come on; pick up,” I sniffled into the phone, chewing on my thumbnail as I waited for an eternity.  
“Avery?” Sam’s voice was laced with worry, like it always was when I called him out of the blue. The comfort in his tone was enough to push me over the edge and I started crying uncontrollably. “Whoa, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his level of worry rising.  
My jaw worked wordlessly for a few seconds before I found my voice. “I- I- I can- can’t- br-breathe,” I managed to choke out between sobs, a hand still clutched to my deflated chest.  
I thought he might flip out and go into protective mode or even ask what’s wrong again, but he didn’t. “Just focus on my voice,” he said instead, lowering it to a soothing pitch. I tried to do as he said, but each quake that went through my body broke my concentration. “Deep breathes. That’s it, you’re doing great,” he reassured me. It took a few minutes before I drew a full breath and a couple more before I could talk normally.  
“I’m sorry,” I told him quietly, embarrassed to have worried him. I sniffed as I wiped the tears off my face and undid the mess my hair was in.  
“It was just a panic attack. Nothing to apologize for.” I could imagine the soft smile on his boyish face and hear it through the phone.   
Wait; what did he call it? “A panic attack?” I repeated after him. “Sam, I’ve never had one before in my life.” Surely, he was mistaken. That kind of thing didn’t happen to me.  
He let out the faintest chuckle at my response. “Yeah, I know. Wanna talk about it?” My throat threatened to constrict again at just the suggestion. “You’ll feel better; I promise,” he said reassuringly, as if being able to read my mind through the phone.  
I drew the deepest breath, letting my head fall back against the door as I did so. “Well, I got a call from the sheriff earlier.” Sam let out a mildly interested oh but otherwise kept quiet. “He was calling to let me know my parent’s will has officially been sorted through. All their assets were liquidated, or something like that, and all outstanding debts paid. So, now I have a pretty hefty sum in my bank account and three hundred acres to my name.” I sighed deeply, thinking of all the responsibility that had just become mine. Sam sounded ready to ask what the real problem was before I continued. “I now have to decide what I want done with the land that’s been in my family for generations.”   
My voice quivered as I finished. Sam was quick to my rescue though. “That’s a really big decision,” he agreed, “and it was all just kinda sprung on you. What’re you thinking?” His posed question was meant to churn my thoughts and keep me thinking out loud. It was much harder to shut myself down if I had someone to bounce ideas off.  
“I could sell the land and not worry about it anymore; truly cut ties there. Or I could keep it and… do what with it?” It wasn’t like I was going home anytime soon. There wasn’t even a home to go back to.   
“You don’t sound like either of those options are very appealing,” he said, noting the tone in my voice. There was silence on the line as we both pondered a possible third option. Sam was the first to speak up. “What if you rebuilt?”  
“Why?” I squeaked, my eyes going wide.  
This time he let out a full chuckle that made me want to laugh along with him. “For argument’s sake, I’m gonna assume you’re pretty set at the moment.” I could only agree with him. “And if I know you as well as I think I do, then I know you’re not ready to get rid of it. Rebuild it from the ground up.”  
It might take most of my inheritance to do what he was suggesting. He was right about the way I felt too. But all that land would just go to waste. Unless… “Sam, what if I rented out the land?”   
He didn’t have the foggiest how farming worked; but after I explained the general idea, he was on board. I’d divide the land into increments of twenty-five or fifty acres. People could rent the land by season, grow their own crops on it. That way the land was still being used and I managed to make a little something extra to store up. The house I’d have built identical to the first and pay someone to maintain it. Sam helped me crunch the numbers and it looked like it would work.  
“Winchester, you’re an absolute genius,” I told him, wishing I could hug him through the phone. He started to respond, but I heard a door slam and someone talking faintly in the background. Whoever it was, Sam answered them; I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.  
“Sorry about that,” Sam’s voice seemed to bellow after the previous silence, “Dean just walked in.” My face immediately pickled into a grimace at the mention of the older Winchester. “You wanna talk to him?” his brother asked innocently.  
I tried hard to keep the venom out of my voice as I spoke but wasn’t sure I succeeded. “Is your good-for-nothing brother still a dumbass who sold his soul in a demon deal?” I clipped out.  
Sam started to speak then burst into laughter after Dean spoke in the background. “She asked if you’re still a dumbass,” he cackled, his voice projected away from me. He laughed harder when his brother sounded like he was mocking me. “He says yes,” Sam chocked out, laughter making it hard for him to speak.  
“He did not,” I said, rolling my eyes. Good to know those two were still thick as thieves.  
“He just misses you,” he tried to tell me after his laughter subsided.   
I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I knew how much my heart ached after not speaking for nearly two months. But a demon deal was something I couldn’t forgive. We’d all been there; seen Sam lay lifeless on that miserable bed in Cold Oak. And been just as relieved when he walked out as if he’d only been napping. But selling his soul hadn’t been worth it. I had regained one Winchester just to lose the other.  
“If you say so,” I said quietly, willing to appease him. I stifled a yawn that snuck up on me, stretching from my spot on the floor. “Getting kinda late, Winchester,” I slurred, a wave of drowsiness hitting me out of nowhere.  
“Go to bed, munchkin,” he said, chortling softly as he did. “Talk to you in a few days,” he promised.  
I told him to stay safe as I pushed off the floor, collapsing into the comfort of my bed.

“Hand me those pliers,” Bobby barked, his voice muffled by the old car he was currently under. I lazily stuck a bookmark into my book, reaching into the toolbox at my feet for the first set of pliers I could see. “Not those, ya idjit; the big blue ones,” I heard him say. I grumbled under my breath, knowing full well there was no way he knew which pair I had first grabbed. He rolled out far enough for his hand to clear the side of the car, palm extended. I slapped the tool into his open hand, seating myself once again on my stool and reopening my book.  
I knew jack-squat about cars and tools, but I was the only person available to be Bobby’s assistant when he needed to crawl underneath an engine. The dreary rain outside had kept us locked inside the house since my conversation with Sam a few days ago and we were both going a little stir crazy. The covered garage beside the house was our only relief. I wasn’t sure if anything was particularly wrong with this car, but we’d been out here long enough that my butt was falling asleep from sitting.  
Just as I was getting reabsorbed in my book, I heard the old man grouse and give a faint cough, a telltale sign that he was working on the right words to say something. “You need something?” I asked softly, not bothering to look up from my page.  
“No,” he replied sharply, silence following the single word. A moment passed before he spoke again. “Was talkin’ to Rufus this morning. Thinks he’s got a case out in Iowa; not far from here.” My ears perked at the word ‘case’, though I wasn’t sure why he was discussing it with me. Probably wanted me to go dig around the library in town for something. He continued when I didn’t reply. “Few people dead or missing; he thinks its just a vampire strollin’ through. We thought it’d be a perfect first case for ya.”  
“For me?” I squeaked, nearly tipping off my stool and dropping my book from shock.  
Bobby pushed himself out from underneath the car to look at me as he spoke. “I told ya this wasn’t no finishing school. Best for you to get out there and earn your keep. Do what you were trained to do; hunt down evil sons of bitches.”  
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as I quipped back, “What you trained me to do.” He let out a disgusted noise as he rolled back under the car, but I knew what it really meant. He wouldn’t be sending me out unless he truly believed I was ready. That fact helped propel my feet as I raced to pack my bags.  
Bobby helped pack my car, which added an hour to my departure time after all the weapons he insisted I take. It was well past dark by the time I reached the city limits of Nowhere, Iowa, and found the morgue closed until morning. I was too wired to simply sit in my motel room and wait. So, I found myself in a corner booth at a decent dive bar, beer in hand, combing through the case files I had managed to gather.   
The crime scene photos were gruesome but showed a clear view of multiple bite wounds on each victim. Great lengths had been taken to hide vehicles and evidence of the abductions. It seemed like too much a hassle for just one vampire to worry about. I might be dealing with a small coven, just three or four members. Something I could still handle on my own without calling in backup.   
I reached for my beer, making a sour face when I saw it was completely empty. I was debating whether to order another when the waitress placed a pink cocktail in a martini glass on the table in front of me. The sudden presence startled me slightly. I tried to babble out that I hadn’t ordered the drink, but she cut me off with a smile. “Lucky,” she said with a wink as a handsome man came up behind her and slid into the booth across from me.   
His broad features and tan skin suggested Native American lineage, and his raven hair was pulled into a loose bun on the back of his head. The corners of his mouth hinted at a smile while his eyes shone with confidence. His clothes were decent enough, similar to my pantsuit, though much nicer than anyone else in the establishment. “I hope you don’t mind,” he purred in a deep, silky voice, “but I saw that your drink was empty, and you seemed too engrossed to notice.” I slammed my files shut as he gestured to them, trying to pull myself from his alluring gaze. He responded with a toothy smile, extending his hand over the table. “I’m Gavin,” he said.  
“And I’m a whiskey drinker,” I replied curtly, eying his hand as if it were a snake. “But I’m sure most lonely girls you hit on eat that line up. Or am I wrong?” I quirked my eyebrow at him, wondering what he might do. Become outraged that I didn’t fall for his ploy, or leave me alone as a lost cause?  
His veil of confidence immediately collapsed, his eyes growing wide. He recovered quickly, a more natural smile playing at his features as he withdrew his hand. He even seemed a little bashful, which I tried not to find adorable. “It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” he said with a self-depreciating laugh, looking up at me through long lashes.   
I caught myself almost telling him that it wasn’t but stopped myself. “I can just spot a bad pick-up line a mile away is all,” I said instead with a soft smile. Surely it conveyed I still had my reservations about interacting with him.  
“Brother?” he questioned, playfully tilting his head left of center. Why was it so cute when boys did that?  
“Best friend actually,” I corrected, fighting the blood rushing to my cheeks. But then again, putting a label on what Dean and I were to each other was easier said than done.   
He snorted, shaking his head as he leaned back in his seat. “Idiot.”  
“Excuse me?” I started, once again becoming cautious.  
He made intentional eye contact with me as he spoke. “Any guy dumb enough to keep you at arm’s length is an idiot.” Damn, now that was a good line, I thought to myself as a rueful smile swept my face. His grin grew when he realized that I’d swallowed the bait, hook, line, and sinker.   
Gavin leaned across the table, closing some of the distance between us. “You know, I didn’t catch your name.”   
I was drowning in his dark eyes before he even finished speaking. I grabbed the martini glass on the table and brought it to my lips. “Buy me a real drink and I’ll tell you,” I told him in a sultry voice, my eyes challenging him. He bit his tongue as he immediately began searching for a waitress. I downed the pink vodka, hoping it would stop the shaking that was starting in my hands.


	4. Chapter 4

Gavin was surprisingly easy to talk to when he wasn’t laying it on thick and clearly kept trying to get me drunk. I had a much higher tolerance than he did; but I went along with it, no longer sensing any danger.   
An hour before last call, I sat there giggling at an awful joke he had made when the room started to tilt. A wave of nausea nearly knocked me to my knees as I struggled to get out of the booth. Vomiting on a first date never left a good impression. There was a backdoor around here somewhere that should let out behind the bar, but it was hard to distinguish the floor from the ceiling anymore. The noises in the room sounded distorted as they hit my ears, like the world was grinding to a halt. I somehow managed to find a door and stumbled blindly into the alleyway. As I dry heaved against the side of the building, it finally hit me.   
This wasn’t alcohol poisoning.   
“Throw it up; right now,” I commanded myself in a hoarse voice to no avail. I felt the drug finally tearing at my consciousness as Gavin burst through the same door I had just a moment before. He stood and watched as I finally collapsed on the pavement.

“Come on, lovely,” a voice called through the haze, “open up those eyes of yours.” A hand attached to the voice smacked me roughly on the cheek several times in impatience. The force sent my brain rattling but had the desired effect as my eyelids heavily dragged upward. I lazily rolled my head around, trying to fight the remaining nausea and headache the drug had left behind. “Ata girl,” Gavin smirked, as my double vision solidified into his crouched form.  
“The hell did you give me?” I rasped, angry and embarrassed at being another damsel. Monsters would be so much easier to fight if they didn’t look like normal, albeit handsome, people. I seemed to be unharmed even if I was tied to a metal chair that was probably crawling with Tetanus.   
He moved away from me as he talked, waltzing to the center of the small room. Wood, metal, and power tools covered every inch of the walls, suggesting it was a workshop of some kind. I couldn’t hope for anyone to find us until the morning; I had to hang on at least that long. “Oh, me? Nothing,” he shrugged confidently. “I can’t say the same for her.” He looked back over his shoulder, holding his hand out to the waitress from the bar.  
I rolled my eyes so hard I could have seen my skull. Of course, he had an accomplice and of course they were a couple. She didn’t seem overly thrilled with her mate though, smacking his hand away with a scowl.  
“You idiot,” she growled, drilling daggers at him. “I told you we had to lay low or the feds were going to get involved.” I didn’t want to be their couple’s therapist, but this distraction would give me valuable time to search for a way out.  
“That’s why I chose her,” he said proudly, making to sidle up next to her. “She’s an FBI agent.” I shifted in the chair quietly, seeking any weaknesses in the rust-riddled thing. My knife was still tucked tightly against my right hip, hidden from view.  
The loud smack of her hand connecting with his face made me jump. “Gavin, you brainless sack of shit!” she screamed at him like one would berate a child. He looked the part as he held his cheek, helplessly taking her angry rampage. “What do you think the FBI is going to do with a missing agent, huh? They’ll flood this town with others; not just forget about her. You’ve signed our death warrants.”   
The rope binding my wrists had caught on something when I jumped, and I was hopelessly searching for it. Just when I thought I might have only imagined it, the strands caught again. My fingers felt a small divot in the back of the chair where a piece had torn away, leaving the edge jagged. Please work, I prayed as I quietly began sawing.  
“You only ever think with your stomach and what’s between your legs.” That was her last comment before sneering and storming away.  
Gavin made an attempt to go after her. “My love, where are you going?” he pleaded.  
Her sharp answer stopped him. “To pack; and to see what part of our lives here I can salvage.” She turned on her heel, saying as she left, “Don’t even think about draining her either.”  
“Trouble in paradise?” I smirked as he leveled his eyes at me. “Are you not fulfilling her in the bedroom?” I mocked concern. That’s right; I need you upset.  
He hissed angrily before moving towards me. “She said I couldn’t drain you, but a bite should shut you up.” His face was the vision of calm as his mouth filled with needle teeth and his eyes turned yellow with venomous pupils. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, painfully jerking my head to the side. I grimaced as his sickly-sweet breath washed over me. With him baring down on my neck, I waited one agonizing second before moving into action.  
I drove my fist into the side of his head so hard I thought I shattered every bone in my arm. It did the job, making him stagger and drop to a knee. I whirled out of the chair, putting distance between us as I easily drew my concealed knife. I danced on the balls of my feet, arms raised, ready to fight if the punch didn’t knock him out.  
Unfortunately for me, it didn’t. He pushed off the ground, twice as mad, blindly running towards me. Hoping he wouldn’t expect me to be on the offensive, I bore down to throw him off balance. His movements were fast, faster than I was used to after months of training with Bobby. But after a few slashes with my blade, I managed to nick his right bicep.   
He howled in pain which confirmed my suspicion that silver could stop whatever kind of monster he was. My confident grin must have been the wrong move because it caused him to charge. I watched as he dropped his shoulder, intent on taking me to the ground. Muscle memory pulled my knife across my chest, ready to receive him, before my mind could think to jump out of the way.  
The force took us both to the floor, but in the descent, I found my opening. Gravity forced my knife into his chest, up to the hilt. He dropped his gaze to where my hand was still desperately clasped around my weapon. He weakly looked at me again, barring all his teeth with the intent to bite.  
“Just die already,” I gritted out, turning the blade already buried in his heart. The thick sound of the metal ripping through muscle made me want to vomit, but I watched his face until the life drained from it. When he began to turn grey and shrivel, I hurriedly scrambled out from underneath him.   
On my hands and knees, I took a deep breath, not realizing I had been holding it in. I was in the middle of standing up when a voice screamed Gavin’s name. My head snapped to where his mate was standing, shock on her face.  
“You killed him?” she mumbled, cocking her head at me. I grimaced, not sure how to respond. To my surprise, relief replaced shock as she cackled, “Better you than me. I’ve been trying to drop his sorry ass for months. Always hitting on other women and what not.”  
I rocked on my feet, nervous at this sudden turn of events. “Yeah, we’ve both got crappy taste in guys. Can I go now?” I asked, taking a half step towards the door. Maybe she’d be so happy that I freed her from an unsatisfying relationship that she wouldn’t try to kill me.  
“You understand why I can’t let you leave alive,” she hissed pleasantly, matching my step. Her fangs descended with glowing yellow eyes.  
Well, it was a long shot to begin with. “So much for girl power,” I grumbled, watching for her move. My knife was still buried in her lover and she stood between me and the door. A move towards either could spell the end for me. I was going to have to hope for an opportunity.  
She was smarter than Gavin, assessing me before she attacked. She was more lethal too, throwing me around the room whenever I managed to land a hit. I was getting my ass thoroughly handed to me. She effortlessly pinned me to a wall; I squirmed, fighting her superhuman strength as she went for my neck. Every second I lost an inch of space between us, despite my desperate attempts.   
I gave a frustrated scream, determined to put the rest of my strength into throwing her off, but a loud noise stole our attention. As she turned to investigate, I cracked my forehead into her nose. White hot pain exploded across my skull as someone yelled, “Catch!” I extended my hand in the direction of the voice, the grip of a knife connecting with my palm.  
I fought the stars swarming my vision to see Gavin’s mate clutching a bloody nose. She jumped at me once more and I caught her in the chest with the knife. I clenched my teeth as I turned it within her chest, letting go as she stumbled backwards. Her body mummified, just like her lover, and I knew it was over.  
“No one ever wins in a head butt, short stuff,” someone called to me. My immediate reaction was one of immense happiness and a beaming smile. It quickly soured into a scowl. Dean Winchester stood staring at me, a cocky grin plastered across his playboy-quality face.  
“What are you doing here?” I snarled, turning my back to him as I dislodged the knife from the girl’s chest. No doubt Bobby sent him when I didn’t check in every hour, but I wanted to hear what he had to say. We hadn’t spoken in months and communication was a two-way street.  
He guffawed at me before speaking. “What a welcome. ‘Haven’t seen you in a while, Dean. How’s it going, Dean? I’ve really missed you, Dean. Thanks for saving me, Dean.’” He babbled on, making dramatic hand gestures like this was a fairytale and he’d saved me from a dragon. He was touched in the head if he thought I’d be excited to see him. Just one look, a ‘short stuff’, and I’d leap into his arms like before.  
I shot him an unimpressed glare as I stepped towards Gavin’s corpse. “I had it,” I told him curtly, jutting my chin at him as I did so.  
“Yeah, I got that impression when I saw how close she was to ripping your throat out,” he shot back, his face darkening to match mine.   
I reached for the handle of my knife to find it wasn’t going to come out easy. “You can take your opinion,” I grabbed with both hands, planted a foot on the body, and pulled, “and go- to- hell!” The blade freed itself on the last word, spinning me in Dean’s direction as I yelled.   
All the rage I had, dissipated when his face fell, and I immediately clapped a hand over my mouth. The air seemed to chill, thickening with oppression to the point where it was hard to swallow. I wanted to apologize, steal the words back before my emotions had gotten the better of me. He shattered the silence first. “Give me a few months and you’ll get your wish,” he whispered into the still air, voice cracking ever so slightly.   
My heart broke inside my chest as he turned to leave. I hadn’t meant it like that, but he must have known that. It was too raw a wound in our relationship to jest about. “Why’d you do it?” I shouted after him, not willing to let him off the hook so easy. In my mind, he had a good many things to answer for.  
He faced me, absolute clarity in his green eyes. “For Sammy,” he said firmly. “He needed me.” He spoke like those few words were all the explanation I needed. And maybe they were, for him.   
Two months of emotion welled inside me, breaking the wall I was trying to keep intact. “What about me, damnit?” I spat out, feeling my face contort in pain. “What about me?” I repeated louder when he seemed taken aback by the question. The thought that it hadn’t occurred to him before loosed the dam of tears I was barely holding back. “I need you too!” I shouted incoherently as a sob rocked my voice. Why couldn’t I keep my cool around you, Winchester? I was levelheaded about everything until you were involved and got under my skin.  
I feared I would have hit my knees after such an exhausting night, but he caught me in his arms before I had the chance. Just like that night in the cornfield, he held me fiercely against his chest. He whispered soothingly in my ear and stroked my hair. This was the Dean Winchester I knew so well, I thought as his scent wafted into my nose. Stale beer and secondhand cigarette smoke from sleezy motel rooms had never been so comforting. I wanted to stay wrapped in his leather jacket for hours, realizing I had missed his company.   
“You’re-” I had to clear the thickness from my voice before continuing. “You’re all I have, you know,” I mumbled meekly, dropping my head lower. The two brothers were my family now and I needed both equally.  
A large hand gently grabbed my chin and used it to guide my gaze upwards. “I’m not going anywhere,” Dean promised solemnly. They were nothing more than hollow words between us; debts didn’t go unpaid. But I found they soothed my heart all the same and I was able to give him a small smile. He returned it, ruffling my hair affectionately as he released me.  
We walked out of the workshop abreast, not being able to swap stories from our time apart fast enough. Bobby and Sam were waiting for us outside, like they’d expected us to come out best friends again. They were lucky I hadn’t killed him, taking a gamble like that. I shouted Sam’s name upon seeing him, racing and leaping into his arms. He caught me midair, swinging us around in a small circle while laughing. God, I’d missed them both.  
Bobby’s typical scowl was fixed in place, but I imagined a touch of relief at seeing me unharmed. As Sam set me down, I could see the old man getting ready to give me an earful. “Lecture me later, okay?” I pleaded over his shoulder. I was too overjoyed to listen to a single word he’d say right now.   
He grumbled to show his displeasure at my sass and talked anyways. “So, what? You just let ’em lead ya to this place like a lamb to slaughter?”  
“I was drugged, I’ll have you know,” I said, making a face at him.   
“Poisoned, more likely,” Dean spoke up behind me.  
I raised an eyebrow as we all turned to look at him, reclining on the Impala’s front bumper. “And how’d you know?” I asked, skeptical.  
He shrugged lightly, crossing his arms as he did so. “Looked like vetala to me. But it’s hard to tell when they’re all shriveled up like that.” He leaned over to get confirmation from Bobby, who nodded. “Whatever it was, she kicked its ass.” Dean dipped his chin at me, his own subtle sign of approval. Sam’s broad smile was easier to read.   
Bobby appraised me shrewdly before loudly complaining that he wanted to go home. That was the closest I was going to get to praise, but I was happy to hear it. I went to open the passenger door of Bobby’s beat up truck and received odd stares from all three guys.  
“Yes?” I questioned, returning the stare over my shoulder. Did I have blood splattered all over my face or something?  
“Aren’t you coming with us?” Sam asked, gesturing to the Impala.  
“Yeah, you’re coming back out on the road with us, short stuff,” Dean chimed in as if he were stating the obvious.  
I shot Bobby a confused look, to which he jerked his chin at the boys. “Go on; git. I don’t wantcha no more.” I burst into a wide smile, wanting to hug his neck. It wouldn’t earn me anything but an earful, so I didn’t. I shouted a thank you, slamming the rusty door in my haste.  
Bobby’s insult of ‘idjit’ followed me as I dove into Baby’s backseat. Sam chuckled as they ducked in as I practically bounced in my seat. “So, did he even let me get here before he called you two knuckleheads?” I voiced my question as the sultry engine purred to life.  
“It was when you missed the first check-in.” Sam was the one who answered me. “We were just on the other side of the state, but Dean here drove like his life depended on.”  
I giggled with the younger Winchester as I watched Dean’s ears turn red. “Aw, were you worried about me, Dean?” I teased him, trying to catch his eyes in the rearview. He angrily shushed both of us, making multiple excuses for his haste. It quickly turned into a bickering war. I listened contentedly, running my hands over the worn leather seat of the Impala. I felt like I was finally home after so many long months away.


End file.
